Too Soon
by HopeIsHere16
Summary: "Don't you think I hate myself for this?" whimpered Cornelius to no one in particular. His eyes flickered up to the opened casket, the lifeless face of his son screaming at him in blame. Cornelius's grief was especially hard to bear because his heart wasn't just broken for one person – it was broken for two. One-shot features minor language and character death (but a happy ending!)


_Too Soon_

**By:** HopeIsHere16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Meet The Robinsons!

**Author's Note:** Hello, fellow fans! This is my first endeavor into the world of MTR, and I am so excited! I truly don't think this wonderful piece of work gets nearly enough credit. It's so unique compared to anything else Disney has ever done, and the message it sends is truly beautiful. I have had this idea in my head for a very long time, so I'm super excited to finally allow it to see the light of day! Feedback is much appreciated – keep this fandom alive! Thank you all for clicking on, and enjoy the tale :) Also - this is not a Lewis/Wilbur slash fic, this just explores their relationship as father and son and best friends :)

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_**Warning:**_ Contains **character death** and scenes that deal with the **loss of a loved one**. Proceed with caution. (Although this does have a happy ending, I promise!)

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_**IMPORTANT:**_

Okay, please read this before you review. It's vital! There are some small details in this story that I am well aware probably don't add up or make good sense. I had to bend the rules of realistic situations a bit in order to make the story progress as I wanted it to. I cringe at the thought of even publishing a time travel story on this site, because I don't want to get flamed that I'm "creating a paradox" or "not making sense" or "doing it wrong". I _know_ it's not all going to be right. And for all you MTR fans, I'm sure you've figured out by now that the time travel in this story is way too difficult to even attempt to unravel. The point of this fic isn't perfect time travel, or any of the logistics whatsoever. The point of this fic is to explore the emotions and reactions of the characters when they're put in the situations I have written about. So just keep that in mind as you progress. Thanks a bunch, guys!

* * *

**T**he parlor did a lovely job.

The entirety of the filled space smelled of crisp, freshly-cut carnations and some kind of harsh cleaner. Whoever had done the cleaning had obviously tried to mask the odor with air freshener, which caused the room to reek of even more flowers than it already did. The scents overwhelmed the area's inhabitants, causing them to associate cleaner and carnations with the memory of the funeral at which they were in attendance.

Well, it was not time for the funeral just yet. The ceremony was to be held the following day at the church down the road; furthermore, the Robinson family had spent the past twelve hours greeting people and hastily wiping tears from their bloodshot eyes at the visitation. What hurt the most, however, was knowing that the funeral would be even more painful than the showing was.

Nearly everyone had gone home by the time our story begins. Despite the grief that nearly choked him, Art had suggested that the family go back to the house for the evening to partake in some well-deserved rest. Everyone was aware that there would be no actual sleeping, but they weren't sure they could stand being at the parlor much longer. Hesitantly, Carl had escorted them out the glass front doors and across the parking lot. It had just begun to drizzle, leaving everyone feeling more somber than before. After a quick headcount, Carl turned around, puzzled, to see two figures still sitting on the plush couches inside. They were as far away from each other as they could get, both looking equally as alone. Carl called out to them in a soft voice,

"Are you guys coming?"

It took a moment before he was answered.

"Later." croaked a voice hoarse from crying. It was so unrecognizable that Carl wasn't even sure which of his family members had spoken.

"Are you sure?" asked Carl worriedly. "I know you don't want to leave, but we're taking the car, and I –"

"We'll walk."

Carl sighed heavily, the weight of his chest nearly pulling him to the ground in agony. He wasn't even aware that robots were capable of such strong feeling. "It's raining." He nearly whimpered.

"I don't care." the voice rasped at him. "Go home, Carl."

"Okay." And then, Carl was gone.

Cornelius slumped back against the padded cushions of the couch. The small conversation with his electronic friend had exhausted him to the point of nearly collapsing. He took a deep breath, attempting to stagger the crying that really hadn't stopped in three days, and turned to see his wife clutching a picture frame to her chest.

He couldn't even look at her face without a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. She looked so much like their son, like Wilbur, that Cornelius wondered if she would ever be able to glance in the mirror again without being reminded of her grief.

Her words were stammered between her sharp breaths, but she managed to gasp out, "W-Why c-c-can't you s-save him? Why? _Why?_" Cornelius wasn't sure if Franny really wanted an answer to her hopeless question, because as soon as she'd spoken, she'd turned back to look at the picture frame in her bosom. It was a tear-stained photograph of Wilbur, who was giving the camera a thumbs-up. It was a recent picture, taken at his sixteenth birthday party, and his son's face was filled with such hope for the future that it broke Cornelius's heart all over again.

"Fran," whispered Cornelius gently, his pupils darting to the floor in shame. "You know that I disassembled the time machine _months_ ago."

"So reassemble it," begged Franny angrily, a bitter edge entering her tone. "You spend so much time in that damn workshop of yours as it is, you could get it done in no time. This is your _son_, Cornelius Robinson! Isn't he worth the elbow-grease? Don't you love him enough?"

Cornelius's heart swelled with passionate fury, and his eyes bore into those of his wife with no hesitance whatsoever. He stood up and began shouting as he told her, "Don't I _love_ him enough? Francine, don't go there with me! You can't even imagine how much I love him! I didn't just lose my son, you know, I lost my best friend!"

"Then bring him back!" screeched Franny with equal fervor. "There's no good reason why you can't!"

"I tried to explain it to you before, Fran," said Cornelius in frustration. "It doesn't work like that! We put barriers on the time shields to prevent a disaster like the one that happened so long ago. Wilbur bringing Lewis to the future made me realize that it wasn't safe to give time machines to _anyone_ if they could be so easily misused. That's why we disassembled ours. Even if I rebuilt it, the law has been set in stone for months now. We wouldn't be able to exit the machine once we got to our destination. We could look out as invisible tourists all we wanted, but we wouldn't be able to change a thing. The software used to make time travel possible has been permanently locked on those rules."

Franny had nothing to say, because she knew her husband was right. And part of her hated him for having been responsible enough to help the government of Todayland make those laws in the first place.

"Don't you think I hate myself for this?" whimpered Cornelius to no one in particular. His eyes flickered up to the opened casket, the lifeless face of his son screaming at him in blame.

_Can I have the keys Dad? I'm going out. _

_Don't stay out too late. Be careful, son. _

_I will. Don't worry so much, old man. _

_I always worry, Wilbur. I'm your father; it's my job._

_Well, then why don't you pretend to be Lewis for five seconds and instead of worrying about my safety, congratulate me on getting a date with this amazing woman?_

_Fine. Congratulations, Wilbur, really. I'm so proud of this insanely hot girl you've managed to snatch. She's the luckiest person on Earth to be going to the movies with the almighty Wilbur Robinson. Now be careful. _

_Night, dad. Be back before twelve! _

Cornelius's grief was especially hard to bear because his heart wasn't just broken for one person – it was broken for two. In one state of mind he was grieving for Cornelius Robinson, the father who had just lost the pride and joy that was his only son. The man who had spent countless hours helping with homework, teaching how to ride a bike, comforting nightmares, and cooking breakfasts before school. Yet he also grieved for a little boy named Lewis, who had just been torn from the first and best friend he had ever known. The lonely boy whose whole life had been changed by Wilbur's appearance. The orphan who spent all those days with Wilbur (whenever he could come back using the time machine, of course,) just laughing and cracking jokes and embracing life with a youthful innocence that most people lost throughout life.

_Which hurts worse?_ wondered Cornelius idly, trying to distract himself from the thoughts that threatened to swallow him whole. But he couldn't; the smell of air freshener and carnations and something else he couldn't quite place were invading his senses and choking him. Wilbur lying there, lifeless, was all he was aware of. His hair was slicked back in its usual style, still shining beneath the fluorescent lights above him. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt, freshly ironed. Franny had wanted him to wear his Captain Time Travel t-shirt, but Cornelius wouldn't let her go near it; it was the one thing he wanted of Wilbur's to remember him by. He could still freshly remember the outburst he'd had when he'd discovered Franny trying to take it.

_How could you? That's his shirt, Franny, you can't take it! He wouldn't want to be buried in it, it would be ruined! I need it, Fran, I need it so I won't forget!_

But t-shirt or not, Cornelius knew he could never forget Wilbur's signature look. It would be burned into his memory for all time.

Cornelius hadn't realized he'd started crying again, but suddenly, a thousand tears seemed to fall at once and stain the maroon carpet at his feet. The fibers soaked up the tears, but they couldn't soak up the sadness. Cornelius wondered if he would ever be happy again – it didn't seem likely. How could he ever even smile when his only son was gone forever? Everything would constantly remind him of Wilbur; every scent in the Robinson household, every meal, every show, every invention would scream at him _WILBUR DID THIS, _or_, WILBUR WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS_. How could he move on?

"It isn't fair!" cried Cornelius, falling to his knees and burying his face in his hands. "No parent should have to bury their child, it hurts too much! I was always ready to go first, I _should_ have gone first! Wilbur was sixteen; _why?_ _WHY?_"

_Young man, you had better have a good explanation for why you're almost an hour late._

_Sir – is this Cornelius Robinson?_

…_Yes. Who may I ask is this? Why do you have my son's phone?_

_Father of Wilbur Robinson?_

_Yes – where is my son? Is he alright?_

_I'm afraid there's been an accident, sir. Your son's vehicle was found near…_

"Cornelius? _Cornelius_?"

Cornelius snapped up from the memory to see his wife standing above him, her hand gently resting upon his shoulder. He placed his larger hand atop hers, basking in the soothing feeling she brought to him. He slowly kissed her fingers one by one, his tears falling upon her soft skin like rain.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," sniffed Franny, wiping tears from her own eyes with her other hand. "It wasn't fair of me; it isn't your fault."

"It is my fault," Cornelius disagreed harshly, self-loathing penetrating his voice. "If I hadn't given him the car –"

"You couldn't have known." whispered Franny, sitting next to her husband upon the floor. "It was an accident, Cornelius, and I knew that from the beginning. There's nothing we can do to change what happened, and it was wrong of me to make you feel like you didn't love Wilbur. I know how much you love him, because I love him that much, too."

Cornelius began to wail like a child, laying his head in Franny's lap. The latter began to gently stroke the disheveled spikes of hair in front of her, whispering nothings to the man she had devoted her life to. For what was there to say? They had just lost their baby, their boy, and nothing could ever set it right. So for an unknown amount of time, the grieving parents wept, unaware that their world was about to be changed forever once again.

* * *

"C'mon Lewis, it's just a little field trip."

"No, Wilbur. Absolutely not. That is way too dangerous."

"You sound too much like my dad."

"I _am_ your dad."

"Not yet, you're not. Right now you're Lewis, my _teenage_ best friend, who is supposed to be my partner in crime."

"In case you're forgetting, you're way more irresponsible than I am. I think this is a little out of my league."

"That's exactly why we should do it! Please? I've never been to the future before – I want to know what it feels like!"

"So why do you need me to go with you?"

"Because it's not an adventure if I'm going by myself. Come _on_! It'll be _fun_! We'll be like _Lewis & Clark_!"

"This is so not the same thing."

"I'm not leaving you alone about it until you agree. It won't be far – just a couple years forward from my time. I just want to see what's going on in the lives of the Robinson family after I've hit my sweet 16. I bet things are _crazy_ with a bad-ass _driving_ Wilbur Robinson in the house. Plus, Dad's working on these new time restrictions that aren't going to let me come back to see you anymore, so we have to soak up all the time we can get while we have it."

"Fine. We'll go for a _little bit_. But if things seem to be getting _at all _dangerous, we're – "

"Out of there, yeah, I figured. Come on, let's go already! I'm not getting any younger!"

"Obviously."

Fourteen year-olds Wilbur and Lewis arrived at the front door of the Robinson household in an unkempt fashion. The time machine screeched against the pavement of the sidewalk, creating a sound that made Lewis cringe. Wilbur sheepishly grinned, turned on the invisibility shields, removed the key from the ignition, and opened the door to the time machine. He and Lewis hopped out with all the energy they had, eager to see what life was like two years (or, in Lewis's case, much further than that) in the future.

"Everything looks the same." Lewis pointed out, exasperated by the fact that his so-called "best friend" felt the need to constantly be endangering his own existence.

"Give it a chance. Come on, let's go inside." Wilbur suggested, jogging up to the front door with a carefree smile plastered onto his face.

Wilbur was about to ring the doorbell when he noticed a piece of paper taped near the doorknob. The words upon it were sloppily written, as though it had been thought of at the last minute and created in haste, and the message it gave out made Wilbur's breath catch in his throat.

_The Robinson Family is currently at Grey's Funeral Home in downtown Todayland. They will not be home until later this evening. If you wish to pay your respects, you may attempt to reach them at another time, or go to the address printed below. Thank you for your kindness during this difficult time._

"L-Lewis…" stammered Wilbur, backing away from his house slowly, as though it was about to explode. Before his friend could even ask what was wrong, Wilbur hauled him back into the time machine and began driving faster than he ever had before.

"Wilbur, what's going on?" asked Lewis nervously, more than a bit concerned for his future-son's sanity. Wilbur was shaking madly, his eyes crazed as he darted across highways, skyways, and intersections looking for an address that Lewis didn't dare guess. Finally, the duo pulled to a stop in front of a small, dark building that looked like the epitome of death. The sign out front read: _Grey's Funeral Parlor._

"What are we doing here?" asked Lewis, more insistent than before. "If you don't tell me_ right _now, I swear I'll –"

"This is where the family is," said Wilbur numbly, all emotion wiped from his face. "There was a note on the door."

"Someone _died_?" gasped Lewis, his heart shattering as tears pricked the corners of his vision. He didn't even know which of his future family members had been lost, but it didn't matter. He would mourn the absence of any of them – but there were two he knew he could not _live_ without.

"Wilbur, who was it?" he asked, feeling like he was going a bit mad himself. Wilbur wouldn't answer. "Wilbur, who _WAS _it?"

"I don't know!" screamed Wilbur, obviously frustrated. "They didn't say!"

"Well, we have to find out!" cried Lewis, fumbling with his seat belt until he finally managed to remove it. "We have to go in there and find out what happened!"

Wilbur nodded, still lost in thought, not even bothering with the invisibility shield. What did it matter in this time, anyhow? As Lewis and Wilbur quietly walked from the parking lot into the dismal looking parlor, neither boy noticed the Robinson family pulling out of the lot themselves and heading home.

* * *

Franny, emotionally drained, declared that she was going for a walk to clear her head and try to regain hold of herself. After ensuring that her husband was alright, she slipped out the back door and headed in the direction of the park. Cornelius wondered how she could stand to go to the park – had that not been the very place they'd taught Wilbur how to catch a Frisbee? Had that not been the location of countless family picnics, during which Wilbur would fool around and entertain everyone?

Picking himself up, Cornelius dragged his heavy body to one of the chairs lined up in clumsy rows. He sat so that he could see the coffin, but not so closely that he was overwhelmed by it. He looked up through teary eyes at his son, knowing that he would never again see him smirk or laugh or roll his eyes. Cornelius knew he was torturing himself, but he felt that it had to be that way. He deserved to be tormented by his thoughts. If he'd been any kind of father, he would have found a way to save his son.

* * *

It took Wilbur and Lewis longer than it should have to find the room in which Cornelius and Franny sat. The funeral home was a lot bigger on the inside than it looked to be from the outside, and the teenagers were having a difficult time navigating their way through. Finally, though, they reached a set of doors that had a sign on them. Written in elegant script were the words:

_Showing Today – 10:00-7:00. Respects to be paid to the Robinson family._

Wilbur and Lewis nervously looked at each other in fear. Lewis barely felt himself nod before Wilbur gently turned the doorknob. The door soundlessly opened just as Franny was leaving the room. Lewis let out a sigh of relief at her retreating form – she was safe.

Wilbur also let out a sigh of relief, because there was no mistaking the spiky blonde hair that sat alone in one of the seats. His dad, his best friend, was safe. He was grieving, but he was alright.

Just when they thought they were going to be okay, Wilbur and Lewis looked further into the room at the coffin. It was open, and it was sorely obvious who was lying inside. Lewis choked back a sob, turning to face his best friend with heartbroken eyes, but Wilbur was too stunned to speak.

"Wilbur," whimpered Lewis, his eyes burning as the tears began. "No, you can't be –"

"Oh my God," mouthed Wilbur in disbelief. There was no experience quite like seeing your own body lying motionlessly in a casket. It was terrifying and unsettling to say the least.

"There's Cornelius," noted Lewis emotionally, pointing to where his future self was crying alone in the parade of chairs. "We should say something. We need to talk to him!"

"Seeing me is just going to upset him more," fretted Wilbur, finally finding his voice again. He, too, began to cry, but not because of his imminent death; it was because of the grief he knew would be Lewis's to carry one day.

"No, it won't!" said Lewis certainly. "It wouldn't upset me more in the long run. Plus, maybe we can find out what happened and prevent it!"

Wilbur hadn't thought of that – of being able to change his future. But of course! Nothing was written in stone, and if he could just find out _how_ he died, he could make sure it never happened!

"Why hasn't he gone back himself and tried to change it?" wondered Lewis angrily. "I wouldn't just let you die, Wilbur, you _know_ that!"

Wilbur couldn't help but notice that Lewis wouldn't look at him properly. He said to the air in front of him, "I told you; Dad's been helping to make laws that will prevent time travel misuse in the future. I'm sure it's already in effect here. As far as I know, time circuits are no longer permitted to release passengers from the time machines and the invisibility shields are on auto-pilot. It's thought that time travel will become more of a…tourist kind of thing."

"Come on. We have to go do something. I can't lose you, Wilbur. I won't." commanded Lewis harshly, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He felt ashamed, but he couldn't even look at his best friend. It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach and stabbed in the heart at the same time, and looking at Wilbur at that moment would have just reminded him more of what he so very easily lost in the future.

"I'll stay back. You go talk to him first." whispered Wilbur, sounding like a frightened child. Lewis turned around with a crinkled expression.

"_Why_?" he asked in suspicion.

"He's not going to believe it's really me if I just waltz up and greet him." defended Wilbur, thrusting his hands in front of him in innocence. "Would you?"

"Valid point." noted Lewis. Without another moment's delay he walked forward, readying himself to come face to face with his future – literally.

"Uh…Cornelius?" he began uncertainly. With more energy than it looked like he possessed, Cornelius's head darted up and his eyes bored into Lewis's. He looked more than shocked, to say the least.

"Lewis," he said incredulously, reaching out to make sure his younger self was actually there. When he was satisfied, his eyes glistened. "What are you doing here? _How_ are you here?"

Lewis was so close to saying _"That is an excellent question"_, but he couldn't. He couldn't say or do anything that reminded him of Wilbur. Even though he was perfectly aware that his friend was safe and alive in the back of the room, seeing his body a few feet away made him feel as though he'd already lost him. So instead, he told Cornelius, "Time machine. It's…kind of a long story."

Cornelius laughed without humor; the sound was pathetic and sad. "Of course."

"I'm sorry about your loss," said Lewis quietly, for lack of anything else. He seated himself next to Cornelius.

"I'm sorry about yours, too." replied Cornelius broken-heartedly. "Seeing him there must have been quite a shock for you. You're what…fourteen? He's probably still been visiting you, then." Lewis couldn't help but notice the jealousy that had entered Cornelius's tone.

"How did he _die_?" Lewis asked without fear, bracing himself for the answer. If possible, Cornelius's expression became even more downcast.

"Accident." Cornelius said in a clipped tone, his voice void of feeling. "On the skyway. He was driving home from a date. He was speeding so he wouldn't be late for his curfew."

_That would be Wilbur_, thought Lewis sadly, glancing back to where he could see his future-son's shadow in the corner. _Already in so much trouble, probably trying to avoid more. Probably afraid of being late and seeing the disappointed look on Cornelius's face. On _my_ face._

"You know I can change that," said Lewis matter-of-factly, forcing Cornelius to look at him. "When I go back, I can make sure that none of this ever happens."

"I'm not going to get my hopes up," said Cornelius dejectedly, sounding hopeless enough to die on the spot. "As it is I'm probably just dreaming that you're here. How could you be? You haven't invented the time machine yet."

"Maybe not," came Wilbur's voice, approaching his father and Lewis slowly. "But that doesn't mean he can't be here. I'm the one who brought him, Dad. I begged him to come with me."

Cornelius's reaction to his son's voice was plain on his face. His eyes swelled with tears once more, and he whipped his neck as quickly as he could to see his boy standing there in all his glory. He certainly looked younger, but there was no doubt in Cornelius's mind that this was Wilbur. Without even really replying to the statement he'd just been told, he stood up from his chair, took three large steps towards his little boy, and embraced him more tightly than he ever had before.

"Wilbur," sobbed Cornelius, kissing the top of his son's head. "Wilbur, Wilbur," the name of his boy was the only coherent word that could be made out from the fierce cries emanating from the chest of Cornelius Robinson. Wilbur hugged his father back just as hard, holding onto him as though for dear life. Lewis looked sadly on.

"I love you, Dad," said Wilbur sadly, allowing a single tear to escape from his eye. Lewis looked away from the scene, knowing that he was invading a heartbreakingly private moment between father and son. Though he was technically a part of that scene, he felt, for one of the first times, as though he was an entirely separate entity from Cornelius Robinson. Yes, that was his name. Yes, that was what his parents and Franny called him. But he was not the same Cornelius Robinson who'd just lost a son – that Cornelius Robinson would only come with time.

Though Lewis prayed and wished that he would never become that man. He never wanted to experience that kind of grief.

"I'll fix this, Dad," whimpered Wilbur, not believing his own words. "I'll come back to you; I swear I won't die."

"That would create a paradox, Wilbur, and you know it." Cornelius said hoarsely, his voice cracking. "Please don't give me that kind of hope."

"It might not create one," said Wilbur petulantly, sounding two rather than fourteen.

"You know damn well it would," cried Cornelius, tightening his grip on his only child. "If you went back in time and stopped yourself from dying, we would never have this conversation. And then you wouldn't be able to fix a thing and we'd end up in this same situation. It would become an infinite loop."

"I'll find a way," Wilbur kept repeating, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could so as to staunch the flow of tears. "I'll fix this."

"Okay." Cornelius said, dropping the subject so he wouldn't hurt himself further. He did not for one moment believe Wilbur; that much was obvious.

Suddenly, Wilbur looked up, and glanced at his body in the casket. He turned away from his father and told Lewis, "Come on. We better go." He began to walk away.

"We don't have to go, yet." insisted Lewis, noticing the shattered look on the face of his future self. "We just got here; don't you want to spend more time with your dad?"

"I will." nodded Wilbur, not looking Cornelius in the eye. "But not today. Come on, buddy; let's go."

And so Lewis and Wilbur walked out the back, Lewis stealing one more glance behind him at the shining eyes of Cornelius. Without a word, the two exchanged a glance, and Wilbur and Lewis were gone.

Cornelius sat back at his chair in a daze, wondering if the entire thing had been a dream. Seeing his son alive again had surely been too good to be true; by the end of a breath, he'd convinced himself that it had all been an intense delusion.

He couldn't cry anymore; all he could manage was watching the birds flutter past the windows, their whole lives ahead of them. Cornelius began to lose track of time, and as the sun set over the horizon, he knew he would never get over the loss of his boy.

* * *

Wilbur Robinson _ached_. He couldn't tell you exactly where he ached; his entire body was stiff and sore.

_Well of course, genius,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _You crashed your flying car on the skyway; bet that didn't feel good. _

Wilbur felt something soft resting beneath his body; he was lying on some kind of mattress. When he tried to sit up to ascertain his location, he discovered that he was being kept in some sort of walled-in bed. What?

Opening his eyes, he was immediately blinded by bright fluorescent lights. It took him five minutes to adjust to the bulbs, but when he did, his memories came rushing back.

_Of course! _he thought immediately, _Crashing my car, faking my own death...man, I need to come up with a plan one day that hurts less._

Sitting up in what he realized was his coffin, Wilbur detached himself from the flowers and pillows that surrounded him. He shuddered lightly; it was just too creepy. Looking around, he realized the viewing must have been long over. The funeral parlor was completely empty and dark; save for his father, who was sitting alone in the corner on a chair. Memories from two years past flooded his mind, causing him to recall the day of his viewing much more clearly. Lewis's insistence on the way home that they find a way to fix things. Wilbur getting annoyed, and using his father's discontinued invention, the Memory Click, to modify his younger friend's memory. Wilbur concocting his own plan, so he could make good on his promise to his dad. It seemed like only yesterday.

When Wilbur stood upon the carpeted floor, he realized he was a bit wobbly on his feet. Huh – guess that's what happened after being unconscious for nearly three days. He'd had to bribe and scheme more than usual to pull through on this particular stunt, and he was certainly feeling the after-effects from the drugs the doctor had given him to slow his heart rate. He'd been asleep since the accident that had only occurred a few days before.

It had been a brilliant plan, if Wilbur said so himself. Lewis didn't remember a thing, which ensured that Cornelius wouldn't try to save Wilbur himself. Wilbur paid off a police officer to pronounce him dead at the scene, and had begged a doctor, who happened to be an old family friend, to protect his "body" and help him appear dead in order to save the space time continuum. With everyone believing he was truly gone, things had played out exactly as they were meant to, and no paradox had been created. Ha! And his father had thought there'd be no way to fix things!

Speaking of his father, he looked like...well, he looked like hell. Wilbur knew he had no right to be passing judgment, because he really could never understand the grief his father had undertaken since the accident, but he had never seen his dad, his best friend, so broken up about _anything_. Seeing him sitting there, sobbing, was a surreal experience. Even when he'd come forward to this date at fourteen, Cornelius had swallowed his sadness enough to at least speak to Wilbur for a few moments. Now, however, Wilbur wondered how Cornelius could even _think_ coherently between the torrents of tears.

_He doesn't believe I fixed things,_ Wilbur thought sadly._ He thinks I'm really dead and couldn't do anything to change that. Well, won't he be surprised?_

Knowing there'd be no easy way to ease his dad into the situation, Wilbur cautiously approached him. Cornelius didn't even notice him. Wilbur cleared his throat when he was near enough for his father to hear him, and then softly asked, "Dad?"

Cornelius squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from beneath his eyelashes. He whispered, "Please don't leave again, Wilbur. Dream or not, I can't lose you again."

Wilbur's heart literally split in half; why did his plan have to cause the ones he loved so much pain? He gently placed a hand upon his dad's shaking shoulder, and said a bit louder, "You weren't dreaming earlier, Dad. Lewis and I really did come to the future, and I found a way to fix things. I'm alive, Dad, I told you I'd come back to you!"

Cornelius shook his head slightly, but when Wilbur gripped his shoulder just a bit more tightly, he opened his eyes and looked up at his son. He was wearing the same clothes they'd chosen for him to be buried in; he had bags beneath his eyes, and was paler than normal, but this was _Wilbur_. Sixteen year-old, irresponsible, rash, goofy, _alive_ Wilbur. Cornelius's mouth hung open, and he was at a loss for words.

"You don't have to say anything," said Wilbur, smiling sideways. "I know you're happy to see me."

"Wilbur..." said Cornelius, reaching for his son's hand with his own. He grasped it as tightly as he could, and coughed, "_How_?"

"That is an _excellent_ question," laughed Wilbur, mirth twinkling in his pupils. That statement was the straw that broke the camel's back, and Cornelius suddenly began to wail. But this time, his tears sprung from joy rather than grief. Cornelius stood and embraced Wilbur, clinging to him for dear life. Wilbur hugged his dad back, and tried to explain his in-depth plan as he did so, but he could tell that Cornelius wasn't really listening.

"You are so much smarter than I, son." gasped out Cornelius, crying too much to notice the slight blush that had sprung upon his son's cheeks. "You found a way - I tried so hard, but there was nothing I could do - you're brilliant, son, completely brilliant. I love you, Wilbur, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, I - "

"Dad!" said Wilbur, detaching himself from his father's arms and staring at him in disbelief. "It's _my_ fault you couldn't help me! I'm the one who erased your memory! But it was all for the better, right? Now everything can go back to the way it was!" Wilbur beamed, waiting for a response.

"It won't," disagreed Cornelius, wiping his eyes as he gained control of his rapid breathing. "Because I will never take you for granted again."

Before Wilbur could ask what exactly his father meant by that, his mother returned to the room from the back door. She didn't notice him at first, and so said, "I don't know what to do, Cornelius." Her voice was choked up, and Wilbur's heart ached again. Franny continued. "I thought I could clear my head, but I _can't_! Everything _everywhere_ reminds me of him. I - I can't even look in the mirror without seeing his face! I don't know what..." but Franny trailed off when she registered the scene in front of her. Her husband was crying, but was smiling more widely than she had ever seen him. And there was her son, her baby boy, standing there with wide eyes at the thought of having hurt his mother. Franny dropped the picture frame she'd still been clutching.

"Mom," said Wilbur quietly, taking a single step forward. At the sound of the title, Franny's cries became quite louder, and she ran into her son's waiting arms. Mother and son held each other, Franny not even bothering to ask why or how. It didn't matter - all that she knew was that her baby was back in her arms, and that was good enough for her. Cornelius joined his wife and son in their embrace, and the small family fell together into a state of bliss and contentment.

* * *

Needless to say, the entire Robinson family was shocked and elated at having Wilbur back. Carl, especially, was an emotional wreck at the return of his "little buddy".

"Kid, don't you _ever_ scare me like that again! I don't think my heart could take it. Not that I have a heart, but, well, you know what I mean. Without you, where would I be?"

Wilbur was truly touched at having been missed so much, and kept it in mind that next time, he should avoid situations that threaten his existence. He'd had too many close encounters over the years, and this one finally showed him what the consequences of his actions could be. The rest of his family wasn't as clingy as his parents were over the next several days. There wasn't a moment when Franny and Cornelius _ever_ let Wilbur out of their sight. It seemed as though they thought he was going to disappear again if they looked away for even a second. In fact, the first night he was home, Franny and Cornelius came into his room after he fell asleep and just watched him for a little while. It was so surreal to have their child back with them after they'd spent three days believing they would never see him again.

Eventually, though, life for the Robinson family returned to normal - or, at least as normal as it _usually_ was. Franny and Cornelius began to adjust to having Wilbur around once more, and stopped treating him like he was going to vanish with the sunset. A week or so after his return, however, Wilbur was visited in the middle of the night by an old friend.

It was well past one in the morning when Cornelius tip-toed into Wilbur's messy room. He had to step around the articles of clothing strewn on the floor and the gaming controls carelessly left in the corners along the walls. When he reached Wilbur's bed, he shook his son awake. Wilbur jerked up, frightened, wondering why he was being roused.

"Dad?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes and trying to adjust to the darkness of his room. "Is that you?"

"Not right now, son," said Cornelius, running a calloused hand through his spikes of blonde hair. A lopsided grin appeared on his face as he said, "Tonight, I came to talk to you as your friend, not your dad."

Wilbur, slightly more awake, smiled widely. "Lewis. How wonderful to see you again, old pal."

"Hey," chuckled Cornelius. "I'm not _that_ old."

Wilbur shook his head, a smile still lighting his features. "Well, what brings you here tonight, Lewis? Want to go on another adventure? Talk about _girls_?"

"Don't be stupid." laughed Cornelius. "I just needed to tell you something. Then you can go back to sleep."

"I'm all ears," said Wilbur, leaning against his pillows and putting his arms behind his head. Cornelius cleared his throat before speaking, as though he had something especially important to say.

"When I thought you were gone," he said quietly, cringing at the memory. "It was especially hard - harder than it would have been for other fathers, I suppose, who were faced with the same situation. The grief of losing a child is the most unbelievable pain I have ever felt, and I hope you _never_ know that kind of agony."

Wilbur felt the guilt begin to eat away at him again at the raw tone his dad's voice had taken. A tear pricked his eye as he stammered, "Dad, I am _so_ -"

But Cornelius acted as though Wilbur hadn't tried to speak. "That's how any father would feel, and that's _exactly_ how I felt. But it was so much more than that, Wilbur. I didn't just lose my son, you know. I also lost my best friend. I know it's hard to see sometimes, but somewhere, I'm still that lost, unconfident orphan kid named Lewis. And you were my _only_ friend, Wilbur. The times you came to visit me, even after I met Franny and had Grandpa and Grandma, were the happiest memories of my adolescence. You really were my partner in crime, and when I thought you were g-gone, I had to deal with a completely different side of grief. It was like I was two people mourning you for different reasons at the same time."

Wilbur was stunned, the tears dried from his eyes in surprise. Of all the things he'd expected his father to say, that hadn't been one of them by any means.

"I just wanted you to know that." said Cornelius quietly, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "I might be Cornelius, I might be your father, but I'm still Lewis, too. And I needed my best friend around just as badly as I needed my son around. I had to wait such a long time for you to come back into my life in the first place, Wilbur. There were years I went without seeing you, and those were hard, but I always knew that in the future you'd be with me all the time. So to lose you for _good_, or at least think that I had, that was...unimaginable."

"I am so sorry," said Wilbur hoarsely, his throat thick. "I knew you'd be upset, but I didn't think it would affect you this much, Lewis. I don't know what to say. But I didn't know what else to do to _fix_ it."

"I know," nodded Cornelius, resigned. "There was nothing else you could've done. I didn't come here to make you feel bad, Wilbur. I just wanted you to know how much I care about you, as both my son and my friend. And I wanted to thank you for being smart enough to fix things. I don't know if I could've done it."

Wilbur gave Cornelius a small smile. "Of course you could have. You're a brilliant kid, Lewis."

Cornelius chuckled. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." said Wilbur, giving a small bow.

Then Cornelius left, but Wilbur found it difficult to return to sleep after that. He had so many thoughts running through his mind, so many feelings he didn't know how to quell. He knew his dad loved him; he'd always known that. But to see how much his dad actually _needed_ him made him feel like the luckiest kid in the world. And that was something that could never be taken away, no matter what.

And so it was that Wilbur Robinson found his way back home, to a family, as well as a best friend, who all wanted him aroud. Even though he could be arrogant, and irresponsible, and stupid, his family still loved him. And if nothing else, Wilbur always knew he could count on them to be there for him. All he had to do was try a little harder, and keep moving forward.

_Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours, still remain._

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**So! I hope you guys liked it! If you saw my notice at the top of the page, you'll probably agree that there were pieces of this that didn't make sense. I understand that. The purpose of this fic, as I said, was to explore both the emotions of the characters as well as the dynamic between Wilbur and Cornelius/Lewis as best friends and family. The purpose was _not_ to make the time travel make sense, or the time laws, or anything like that. Like I said, I bent reality a bit to work for my purposes. That being said, I appreciate you guys clicking on and I hope to hear from you if you enjoyed the tale! Thanks again and I hope you have a lovely day/evening! :)


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